


Stoic

by Aishuu



Series: Dross [2]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut, Things Fall Apart - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/pseuds/Aishuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tezuka and Fuji have multiple failures to communicate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stoic

**Author's Note:**

> This is set three years before the events in Dross. I think it can probably stand alone, but the characterizations are distinct to that story arc.

Whenever Tezuka came back to his apartment at night, Fuji would be in the kitchen, preparing their dinner. It wasn’t because he was the better cook - frankly, Fuji’s cooking skills were probably the one thing about him that wasn’t prodigious - but the tensai has early morning classes, which left him most of the afternoon free. 

It was a matter of practicality, really, though sometimes Tezuka wished he was able to leave pre-made meals behind. Sometimes the things Fuji came up with tested even his iron stomach. But that was okay, because Fuji seemed to enjoy cooking, as long as Tezuka helped clean the mess up afterward. 

That day, Tezuka toed off his shoes at the door before sliding his feet into his slippers, feeling the strain of the long day of school throb through his temples. His classes weren’t particularly difficult, as long as he focused on them, but after six hours of being glued to a chair, he was tense. Humans weren’t meant to sit still for such prolonged periods of time. 

The smell from the kitchen this evening wasn’t particularly threatening, which meant that Fuji had probably been too tired to experiment and stuck to one of the simpler recipes he knew. Tezuka knew he shouldn’t be as relieved as he was, because it meant Fuji was probably exhausted, but he counted it a small blessing. 

As he walked into the dining area, he wordlessly went to the cabinets to get out the table settings, since Fuji hadn’t gotten there yet. The soft sound of china being placed on the low wooden table made Fuji materialize from the kitchen, wearing the same inscrutable smile that he was rarely without. 

"Classes okay?" Fuji asked politely, leaning against the wall as he tilted his head slightly. It was the same question he asked every evening as a welcome. 

"The usual. Yours?" Tezuka asked, straightening a knife he had mislaid. 

"I might actually have to start studying sometime soon," Fuji admitted. "We’ll need bowls tonight, Tezuka." 

Tezuka nodded, and turned to the cabinet where they were kept without protest. Life with Fuji wasn’t particular difficult, despite what he had been expecting when they had moved in together after completing their bachelor’s degrees. Fuji had a way of being accommodating without being a pushover, and managed to insert himself into Tezuka’s life as neatly as hand in a velvet glove. Some people might have expected Fuji to be troublesome, with his constant search for amusement, but Tezuka had learned otherwise. Fuji simply was himself. 

He wasn’t quite sure who had suggested they room together when they moved onto graduate school, but that, too, had been a natural extension of their friendship. Tezuka wasn’t fond of meeting new people, and rooming with a stranger would have been a nightmare for him, who preferred order and privacy, so Fuji filled the role perfectly. Finances were tight, and the small apartment they shared was expensive, even with their financial aid. Both of their families were willing to give generous stipends, but each had pride and were determined not to be burdensome. 

Fuji disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve their dinner while Tezuka finished setting their table. Fuji made several trips to retrieve food as Tezuka settled himself down, knowing that Fuji preferred to handle this by himself. 

They almost always ate together, though usually they would have books out on the table along with the food, studying. Fuji’s choice of med school and Tezuka’s of law had guaranteed a heavy course load, and every moment was precious. Tezuka thought of the books in his bag, and wondered if he should begin on his homework now, rather than wait. It was true he had all weekend, but the more he got out of the way, the better it would be. 

Too late. Fuji was moving into the room again, and settling down across from him, his posture comfortable, yet full of a strange watchfulness that never seemed to completely leave him. Despite his pose of casualness, Tezuka knew that nothing slipped by the tensai. He’d never actually seen Fuji relax, except when deeply asleep. 

Tezuka wasn’t quite sure how they ended up sharing the same bed. He didn’t think of himself as Fuji’s lover, though they had sex quite frequently. That, too, was another function in their relationship, one which served their needs as well. Fuji still dated, always the most beautiful women on campus, though Tezuka didn’t think he slept with any of them. He was always home too early, and many of those nights, he would be particularly demanding, even going so far as to wake Tezuka up from a sound sleep. 

Fuji had overcooked the rice, and the curry was too spicy, as usual, but overall it was satisfactory. They were quiet as they ate, which suited Tezuka just fine. With some things, silence was golden. Communication between them was rarely verbal, but that was okay. Tezuka wasn’t much for talking, anyway, and Fuji wasn’t that fond of idle conversation. 

Fuji ate delicately, picking at his food with his chopsticks in a fashion that indicated his appetite was elsewhere. Tezuka was almost tempted to ask what was wrong, but Fuji sent no look or touch that indicated he wanted to talk. 

Tezuka knew that if it was important, Fuji would tell him. Fuji always told him, eventually. 

It took ten minutes to finish, and then Fuji collected the dishes as Tezuka went to fill the sink with warm, soapy water. In smooth sync they worked together to clean up, and Tezuka found himself relaxing. This domesticity was pleasant, familiar, and Fuji didn’t press him for anything. 

Though he did still have that pile of homework to attend to... 

"I’ll be late tomorrow," Fuji said as Tezuka started on the pans. He dried a plate before placing it in the cupboard. 

Tezuka tilted his head inquiringly. "Do I know her?" 

"Him. I don’t think so," Fuji replied. "He’s an art teacher at the university." 

Tezuka’s hands hesitated for a moment. "You don’t have him for classes, do you?" he asked, trying to sort his thoughts out. 

"Of course not. Do you think I’m stupid?" Fuji asked with a touch of scorn. 

"Of course not," Tezuka echoed. His hands slowed for a moment. He opened his mouth to ask another question, about how Fuji had met the other man, about why Fuji was suddenly dating men for that matter, but the words died before voiced, fading into the suddenly charged air between them. 

"Something wrong?" Fuji asked curiously. 

"No," Tezuka said. Of course there was nothing wrong - it wasn’t any of his business who Fuji dated. 

Fuji gave him an appraising look, before nodding to himself. 

They finished cleaning, and by then it was nine. Fuji seemed to be tired, so it wasn’t a surprise was he announced his intention to head to bed. 

"I still have homework," Tezuka informed him. "I’ll be a while." 

"No surprise there," Fuji replied, before disappearing into the bathroom they shared. 

The stack of homework that Tezuka attacked only seemed to get larger instead of smaller. Two hours of work gave him little progress, and he knew that most of his attention lay in his concern for his roommate. 

He had always known that Fuji had his pick of the prettiest girls on campus, but he had never really considered the possibility of Fuji dating other men. He had never thought of Fuji as... bi. He wondered why that bothered him. 

It wasn’t even midnight, but Tezuka pushed his books back into his bags, and shut the lights in the living area down. He figured he would get up in the morning, after he had some sleep. 

Fuji was already in bed asleep, when Tezuka arrived. Fuji preferred to sleep naked, claiming that he got tangled in his clothes because he was such a restless sleeper. That Tezuka could attest to, because he’d been woken more than once when Fuji had kicked out or thrown an arm across him. 

He had never really thought of Fuji as beautiful, but he knew others considered him so. Staring at Fuji’s still form - no dreams plagued him at that moment - he tilted his head, and came to the conclusion that Fuji was, indeed, attractive. A refined face, slender yet firm musculature, and soft hair that begged to have fingers run through it. Tezuka’s body jumped at the sight. He was tired, but the invitation of his roommate was one he was never able to resist. 

He removed his clothing, folding it carefully and placing it neatly on the dresser, finishing at last with his glasses. The world became dreamlike as his vision blurred slightly, making it easier to slide into bed beside Fuji.

Fuji stirred slightly as Tezuka traced inquiring fingers along his neck. Tezuka had learned that Fuji was particularly sensitive there, and loved to have his throat sucked. He'd left more than one hickey there in the past, but Fuji had always enjoyed the touch. It only took a moment for Fuji to awaken; he was always a light sleeper. Lashes fluttered open and there was a moment of disorientation - then his face hooded as blue eyes settled on Tezuka's face. 

"What time is it?" he asked. 

"Midnight," Tezuka replied. His hand moved down over Fuji's shoulder, across a smooth span of practically hairless chest and directly to Fuji's cock. It was soft in his hand, but he knew that it would take little time to interest the tensai in their activity. 

Fuji tilted his head back, hissing a bit as he raised his hands to grasp Tezuka's shoulders. His hair fell against the white pillowcase, and Tezuka felt the press of Fuji's fingernails as his back was scraped. A slight smile appeared on Tezuka's face as he cupped Fuji's balls before trailing a teasing finger along its length to the head. Fuji's face remained impassive, but his fingers twitched once as Tezuka repeated the taunt. 

It wasn't gentle when Fuji finally reached for him, throwing the bedcoverings completely aside. His hands grabbed Tezuka’s back, and for a fleeting moment Tezuka reflected that Fuji’s nails were too long, biting into his skin in a most uncomfortable fashion. Then Fuji’s mouth found a nipple, and his teeth tugged, then his tongue lapped, and he nursed the ruddy nub for several moments before pulling back, and hitching up on the bed. 

With the ease of long-time partners, Tezuka knew what Fuji wanted. He wanted to be taken, hard and fast. They lacked finesse in bed; little in the way of foreplay. It was almost a business transaction - mutual desires for sexual gratification, and together they found release from the stress of their lives. Their familiarity with each other made it almost natural to extend their friendship to this level. 

The condom that Fuji tossed to Tezuka even as he grabbed the tube of lube off the bedstand was easily dealt with. Tezuka waited a while the tensai prepared himself. Sometimes it struck Tezuka as odd that Fuji always performed this act on himself, but Fuji was strange. It was arousing, to watch Fuji’s fingers disappear into his own anus as he stretched his own muscles, preparing himself for sex. His eyes locked on Tezuka’s and another Fuji fact floated through his mind. 

Fuji always had sex with his eyes open. 

After Fuji was done, he lay back, positioning his legs so access was convenient. Tezuka, aware that he was heavier than the smaller man, rested his weight on his forearms and cautiously probed before inching into the tensai. 

Sex with Fuji was a dizzying experience. Tezuka never really remembered the actual intercourse, but always recalled a series of images and sensations. Heat and tightness, a feeling of winding up so tight that he would break, and those blue eyes that he could drown in, if only he would let himself give in.... 

And then there was the climax, and he ejaculated, and Fuji would almost invariably come shortly after, spurting semen on Tezuka’s stomach. For a few moments, Tezuka relaxed, but reality came crashing back when he realized he was resting all his weight on Fuji, and he was sweaty and sticky, and needed to get cleaned up. 

Fuji, like usual, was lethargic after sex, and let himself be dragged to the bathroom to be dunked into the shower quickly without a word. Tezuka followed, scrubbing their bodies thoroughly but quickly. He was used to this; it was nearly one a.m. now, and both needed to sleep. 

Getting back into bed was easy enough. Had they been lovers, Tezuka might have wrapped his arms around Fuji and held him close... but they weren’t lovers. Lovers meant there was love, and he wasn’t in love with Fuji. Instead, he merely slid next to Fuji, and wished him a good night.

* * *

Tezuka was usually the first one up, but the next morning, he found the space beside him empty. Curious, he wandered into the kitchen, and was surprised to see Fuji dressed. 

Fuji was wearing the blue shirt that brought out his eyes, and clung slightly to his chest, emphasizing his slender musculature. Tezuka knew he wore the shirt when he wanted to appear seductive. 

"Good morning," he said to Fuji. 

Fuji gave him the smile that he always wore, the one which kept everyone out. "Did you want something for breakfast?" he offered. 

"Ah... no. I’m not hungry." 

Fuji shook his head. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Fuji said. 

"I’ll grab a cup of coffee," Tezuka promised. "I have a study group meeting at ten." 

"Ah." Fuji looked down at the eggs that he had been cooking. "Guess I made too much then." 

Tezuka knew he had time for breakfast, and Fuji was hinting he should stay, but he was still feeling awkward. "Are you going to be late tonight?" 

Fuji studied Tezuka’s face for a second, and Tezuka could feel the tension hanging in the air, knowing somehow that something pivotal was about to happen. Fuji considered his answer, knowing what Tezuka was really asking – and made his decision.

"Yes." 

When Fuji came home that night, Tezuka was waiting and for the first time, they had a fight. It was about the dishes Fuji had left undone from breakfast. The next day, they fought about Tezuka’s unwillingness to accompany Fuji to a birthday party for a mutual friend. Then the next day there was a fight about Fuji’s cooking. Then the next day... 

Two months later, Fuji moved out.


End file.
